


in the end

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [31]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cock Slapping, Consensual Kink, Crying, Dacryphilia, Face-Fucking, M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Draco’s always thought Harry’s eyes were his best feature, and they look even better when they’re filled with tears thatDracoput there.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 46
Kudos: 324





	in the end

**Author's Note:**

> the october 31 prompt for kinktober 2020 is _free space_ —i chose **[dacryphilia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dacryphilia#:~:text=Dacryphilia%20\(also%20known%20as%20dacrylagnia,and%20philia%20meaning%20%22love.%22)**.

Harry hates when Draco calls him beautiful, so, naturally, he does so as often as possible.

He’s not the only one; the papers are forever banging on about his high cheekbones, and the way his skin _gleams like caramel in the sun_ (Draco thinks that one might be sort of racist; Hermione certainly would know, if she bothered to take the papers anymore, so maybe he’ll check with her on that), and his thick, lustrous hair; some of the less-savoury publications might make cheeky reference to his thighs, and _Wands Weekly_ has abandoned all pretense at propriety with their weekly feature on Harry’s arse (Ron had papered over Harry’s office with copies of the one where he’d been caught out in an old, ratty pair of joggers with a hole worn in an _interesting_ location; Draco thinks he’s never laughed so hard in his life).

Harry can take that all in stride, though; _part of being a celebrity,_ he’ll demur with a shrug, _they’ve finally cottoned on to the fact that I’m quite dull, they’ll say anything for content, it’s not real_. Draco disagrees vehemently, as he finds Harry as endlessly fascinating as he had all through school, albeit with slightly different intentions these days, but he’s learned to pick his battles when it comes to Harry’s low self-esteem dressed up as humility.

Harry easily brushes off the praise of the public, accepting the swoons and the sighs and the constant eyes whenever he goes anywhere, but dismissing them as soon as he moves past the giver. He’s gracious, and sincere, and thinks every stranger who compliments his looks is full of shit.

It’s harder for him to claim _Draco_ is full of shit, though; not when he sought Draco out, pursued him, initiated the whole first few weeks of their relationship until Draco finally realized Harry _wasn’t_ taking the piss. All that reassurance Draco needed at first means Harry has no real choice but to accept it when Draco murmurs over how gorgeous he looks in purple, or strokes over his muscles with admiration.

He’s not comfortable with it, that much is obvious, but Draco persists; one day, he hopes, Harry will finally see what Draco does.

In the meantime, he’s more than happy to reinforce it.

“You look stunning like this,” Draco says approvingly, circling around Harry and admiring the way the light blue silks bring out the undertones in his hair. “I do so love when you make yourself pretty for me.”

Harry’s kneeling in the middle of their bedroom, and Draco’s just finished binding him up in silken rope, and the sunset lancing in through their window has set him glowing. “So what are you going to do about it?” Harry replies, a laugh under his words, eyes dancing. “If you’re just going to stare at me all night, I’m afraid I’ll have to spell myself free and take care of _myself_...” He looks significantly down at his cock, which is hard and welling precome copiously.

“Ooh, don’t _tempt_ me,” Draco purrs, smirking as Harry’s jaw drops and his cock twitches.

Draco himself has been hard since Harry agreed to try this, and his cock is straining against his boxer-briefs. He palms himself briefly, then steps closer to Harry, tilting his chin up.

He loves paying Harry compliments, loves to watch him blush and stutter and rub the back of his neck as he tries to be gracious while still denying it. He lavishes attention over Harry’s plush supple mouth, the way his stubble feels on Draco’s neck, how thick his cock feels in Draco’s arse, the way his hands can practically span Draco’s waist.

But what Draco likes most of all? Harry’s _eyes_.

It’s a cliche, he knows. Harry’s eyes are fêted throughout the wizarding world, for their size and their unusual colour and the fire-bright intensity behind them. Many an interviewee has sworn they could actually _see_ Auror Potter’s magic when they look in his eyes, and Draco believes every one of them.

But nobody else gets to see them like _this_.

Harry’s eyes are darkening already, but the green still shines through, and Draco tilts his head, holding eye contact until Harry blinks. He smiles, and Draco has no choice but to smile back.

Circe, but he’d burn the world down for that smile.

Draco pushes down his pants, watching as Harry drops his eyes to his cock and licks his lips. Draco kicks his pants out of the way and steps closer, gripping the base of his cock.

He paints the head over Harry’s lips, smearing precome that Harry licks off with a moan of satisfaction. He rubs the shaft over Harry’s face, and lets Harry ducks his head and take his balls into his mouth while Draco wanks slowly, eyes closed, relishing the sensation.

When pressure starts to build in his stomach, he forces himself to stop and step back. Harry lets his balls go with a filthy slurp and grins up at him; he knows exactly why Draco needs a break, the brat.

Draco idly runs his hand over his own torso, stopping to pinch his nipples and scratch along his side, and soon it’s Harry who’s panting, shifting and trying to rub his thighs together, anything for some friction on his cock. Draco can see his biceps bulge as he tries to pull his arms out from where they’re bound behind his back, but the ties are magicked shut; he’s not getting free without Draco’s help unless he uses his word.

Once Draco feels a bit more in control of himself, he steps forward again, slapping Harry’s cheeks with his cock. Harry sighs and closes his eyes; the impact isn’t hard, and he probably can’t even feel it for any length of time, but it’s the closest Draco will come to actually slapping Harry across the face, which he knows Harry wants but Draco won’t do.

He rubs his cock over Harry’s face again, breath shortening as Harry’s tongue darts out to lick over the shaft whenever he can.

Finally, Draco feels like he’s teased them both for long enough. “Open up,” he orders, and Harry’s mouth drops obediently, as wide as he can go. He blinks languidly up at Draco with eyes that are by now almost all pupil, with just the thinnest ring of green iris.

Inch by inch, Draco feeds his cock down Harry’s throat, pausing when Harry gags a bit to give him time to adjust, but never pulling out, never stopping. He only stops when Harry’s nose is pressed to his pubic hair. He can feel Harry’s exhales against his skin and shivers.

Harry’s throat is working around his cock, and Draco waits until Harry’s blinking rapidly up at him before he slides out. Harry sputters and gasps, taking in great heaving breaths, and Draco only gives him a few seconds to recover before he pushes his way in again.

His thrusts start slow, letting Harry get used to it, letting him move around until he’s able to position himself at the best angle to take Draco’s cock, but once Harry blinks up at him with a bit of a challenge in his eyes Draco stops showing him mercy.

Draco’s hands sneak around to the back of Harry’s head, where he grips tight enough to sting Harry’s scalp, holding him in place. He starts speeding up, long fast thrusts all the way down into Harry’s open throat, in and out with no breaks for Harry to gather himself.

Drool slides down the sides of Harry’s mouth, and his throat flutters and clenches around Draco’s cock. His face is flushed, and his lips already look swollen, and he’s moaning so much that Draco can _feel_ it whenever he pushes in.

One of Draco’s hands flutters around to Harry’s throat, where he presses down lightly, just enough to feel his cock when he thrusts in. It’s not the right angle for it, but if he had Harry flat on his back and was fucking his mouth from on top of him, he’d be able to see the bulge he’s making.

Harry’s nostrils are flaring now as he struggles to take in enough air, and his eyelashes are fluttering. His face is a mess; blotchy and covered in spit and precome and—is that…?

Draco heaves out a trembling breath as he brushes his thumb along one of Harry’s cheekbones.

Tears are welling up in Harry’s eyes, and Draco thinks that if he thrusts just a _little_ harder…

Harry makes a harsh sound around his cock, and the tears flow free, rolling unchecked down his cheeks. Draco moves his hands so he’s holding the sides of his face, so he can rub the tears into Harry’s skin.

Harry is never more beautiful than when he’s kneeling at Draco’s feet, crying as he takes his cock. And Draco’s the _only one_ who gets to see him this way. The only one who ever _will_.

Harry’s properly sobbing now, sucking in air desperately through his nose, his whole body shaking, and Draco grits his teeth, pressing his fingers into Harry’s skin as he fucks his face harder.

“Ahh— Ahh—” Harry moans, and Draco glances down, watching Harry’s cock twitch and jerk and spill precome onto the carpet. He’s seconds away from coming too, Draco thinks; just the hint of friction and he’d be done for. And all that from sucking _Draco’s_ cock.

The thought is too much, and he shouts and shoves Harry’s face against his groin, pumping his hips hard and deep as he comes down Harry’s throat.

He holds Harry there for a little bit, feeling Harry swallow around him, milking out the last of his orgasm, and when Harry’s shaking, probably desperate for air, Draco finally lets him go at the same time as he pushes his leg up against Harry’s cock.

Harry gasps for breath and ruts against Draco’s shin once, twice, and that’s all it takes, and he comes all over the floor with a ragged, fucked-out scream.

He slumps down against the floor, panting for breath, and Draco waves his hand hurriedly to Vanish the bindings, crouching down and Summoning the glass of warm water from his nightstand. He helps Harry straighten, holds the glass until he’s had at least half of it, then pulls him to his feet and guides him to their bed.

“Fu- _uck,_ ” Harry rasps out, flopping back against the pillows, and Draco’s cock twitches. He ignores it, dropping a kiss onto Harry’s sweaty forehead before he heads to the bathroom for a flannel and to refill the water glass.

Harry’s tucked himself in by the time Draco gets back, so he clambers up on the bed too, handing Harry the glass and carefully wiping his face off.

Harry’s face is red and splotchy, and his eyes are rimmed in red, and his lips look painfully swollen, and his hairline is damp from both sweat and the flannel, and Draco’s heart skips a beat, because really, he’s never seen such a beautiful thing in his whole life.

“You say that every time,” Harry husks out, coughing a bit, and Draco realizes he must have been speaking out loud. He does that after he comes, sometimes, and Harry loves teasing him for it, although right now Harry doesn’t seem up to talking much.

“Maybe someday you’ll actually believe me, if I say it enough,” Draco replies, dropping the flannel off the bed and squirming under the blankets. It’s too warm, both of them still overheated from orgasm and the blankets not quite seasonally appropriate any longer since neither of them have bothered to change over to the lighter set yet, but Draco plasters himself to Harry’s side, running his hand up and down Harry’s body, light enough to make Harry squirm and protest the tickle. “You know I think you’re stunning.”

“Sure,” Harry says drowsily, biting at Draco’s fingers when he draws them up to trace over his face.

Draco flicks his nose in response. “You should stop talking, you’ll hurt your voice,” he remonstrates.

Harry turns to gape at him. “ _I’ll_ hurt my voice?” he says disbelievingly, his words barely a squeak. He’s almost completely inaudible by now; Draco can’t _believe_ Harry lets him do this. “I’ll have you know that this is _your_ fault.”

“Yes,” Draco replies serenely, “but if you don’t quiet down, you’re only going to make it _worse,_ aren’t you?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Next time. I’m too tired right now.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr post for this fic is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/633552320242794496/kinktober-day-31-in-the-end).


End file.
